Our Own
by timmycardiac
Summary: Just a ton of really fluff Ballister/Ambrosius dabbles from back in the days of the orphanage!


It was the dead of night when Ballister was awakened by a sharp scream. " _Ballister_!" Ambrosius wailed, his footsteps light and quick across the old wood flooring of the orphanage.

Ballister wanted to hide under his bed. It was too early to deal with this. Ambrosius was only eleven. There were plenty of younger kids, but the one thing everyone seemed to agree on was that Ambrosius was the most annoying of them all. And since no one liked Ballister, either, they dumped the little brat on him. He had to kiss his days or even minutes of solitude away. Ambrosius was like that bit of adhesive that stubbornly refuses to come off when you peel a sticker off something-impossible to get rid of.

But sometimes Ambrosius wasn't all that bad. He didn't need much (except someone to lay on) and really he was just a kid. As long as he had somebody to follow and feel safe around he would be fine. Sometimes too fine. Sometimes so overly optimistic about everything that Ballister wanted to grab him by the shoulders and scream that there was nothing to be happy about.

Ambrosius leaned over him, his breathing quick. He poked Ballister's cheek to see if he was awake. And not gently, either. Ballister tried to pretend he was asleep. For a second he let himself believe Ambrosius would eventually give up. Yeah, right.

Ambrosius poked him again. "Bally," he whispered desperately.

Oh, sweet glory, how he hated that name Ambrosius made up for him. As if he needed more reason for the other kids to make fun of him. And, even worse, he couldn't stay mad when Ambrosius called him that. Just a little kid, he reminded himself. He cracked his eyes open and Ambrosius, seeing it, flung himself into Ballister's arms, which was really sad and also quite impossible since Ballister was laying down.

"Ambrosius, you have to go back to your own bed," Ballister said even though he knew it would do no good.

Ambrosius's arms tightened around Ballister's neck. "I don't want to," he said. "Please don't make me." He sniffled as tears escaped his eyes.

Ballister's blood ran cold. Ambrosius had never cried. Or, at least, not in front of him. It seemed like Ambrosius was capable of every other emotion-joy, boredom, petty rage-but someone so annoyingly cheerful shouldn't have even known _how_ to cry.

Ballister's arms came around Ambrosius slowly and unsurely but they were there nonetheless. Seeing it as a permission of sorts, Ambrosius buried his head in the crook of Ballister's neck and inhaled deeply a few times. Ballister just sort of assumed he was trying to calm himself down, but after a few moments he could tell from the way that Ambrosius's nose rubbed against his skin that Ambrosius was smelling him.

"What are you doing?" Ballister asked quietly.

Ambrosius stared up at him, tears still shining in his eyes though they probably would never fall. "You smell nice," he whispered back. When Ballister only stared at him incredulously he added, "Like home."

Ambrosius didn't say anything after that, but Ballister could more or less understand what he meant. Ambrosius didn't even have a home, unless you called this orphanage a home, and it wasn't anything like home, just a place to sleep and night and occasionally get some bland food. So the fact that Ambrosius connected Ballister to something so personal made Ballister feel nice inside. Like he had done something right for once in his life.

And some part of him was scared that this kid was putting so much faith in him when neither of them had anything of real value, and they were both one step away from being homeless.

As if knowing what Ballister was thinking, Ambrosius piped up again, luckily quiet enough for everyone else to remain asleep. "Ballister," he mumbled, his voice muffled by Ballister's shirt, "You're going to stay with me forever, right? If they ever kick us out, you won't leave me?"

Jeez. That was a whole lot of commitment right there. Ballister considered saying yes so Ambrosius would finally go to bed, but as he thought about it he realized that maybe he would like to keep Ambrosius around, if only so Ambrosius would keep away anyone who gave them trouble by annoying them to death.

"Yes," Ballister whispered back, burying his nose in Ambrosius's blond locks, trying to hide his burning cheeks.

Ambrosius giggled softly. "I love you, Ballister."

Ballister didn't have to stop and think about his answer this time. "I love you too."


End file.
